drear view mirror

moments ago, morn scorched
instant cold
,

trapped ‘hind dash, bored,
driving heel through
metal floor,

tinker mirror,
swig at beer

pocket fears, we go
stuck in gear,

processing screams-
prayers treading the
A.M./F.U. hush
,

gripped some wheel,
pressed to flesh,
caving chest

like blanket when
daylight drains
his best.

image: https://pixabay.com/users/lollemyartphotography-402427/

image: https://pixabay.com/users/mokhin59-1489446/

bellies up, aching barely

just blanked out on small thought,
guess i really shouldn’t
never not,

or let me think a bit
pot, rot, sex up the robot
,

then

need feed ’em frosty fishes
store brand cornfake flakes

again,

n’again again, grinding
‘gainst heart’s natural stain
again.

must be hankerin’ this having no body
closer, right ’round Christmas, pistol terrors,
billow them homes of haunted mirrors
,

plateau rides a lil’ sumthin’
like ruby reindeer dragged
‘hind
fat man’s hearse,

silver shellfish bellies a bulging
in pickle brine, eyes waxy
with death or by design

afloat soggy summit woe ‘sif
i poured glass tears in
candy bowl
.

still pacing orbits ’round
foxholes.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/users/cdd20-1193381/

fades in beige (an ode to william corgan)

when your life is lacking taint,  it’s your job to get out the paint… 

neutral

was the fall of Eve,
in frosted velvet cupcake sheets,

when twilight curiosities
wagged parlour fingers
in space, at me.

caught bloody palms, brain free
in gentler brush of
sweetheart’s tree

all slain, bold gashes
in beiges of backsplashes 

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/users/artsybee-462611/

image: https://pixabay.com/users/nuzree-27365/

 

illuminaughty by nature

if setting soul beam’s
gild has grimmed,

flick the fuckin’
switch.

offer hard-on bohemians
final chance for coal grove owl
graceless worship dance,

on wicked wonka walls
and sticky slit ceilings
they’ll grind, jerk and sway
our milk carton sun
astray,

then cast grotesque
rorschach silhouettes
on father nature’s
diddler screens,

these and other such mortal rots,
never should be
seen,

bathed in ritual babe’s bloody
lake depths, of which
most, have never
been.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/users/sebadelval-18044/